


Hide And Seek

by blueberrysanscake



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: Adding tags as I go along, F/M, Jealousy, Obsessive Behavior, One sided, Possessive Behavior, Romance, The Boy (2016) - Freeform, songfic?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 15:07:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17347451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueberrysanscake/pseuds/blueberrysanscake
Summary: I'm a sinner x2I'm a sick, cold hearted killerI'm a lover, I'm a winnerAnd I'd do it all to steal herFrom a life she thinks she wantsBut I know she would regretLiving life without another manAnd now he's fucking dead.— To Play Hide And Seek With Jealously,Famous Last Words





	1. First

**Author's Note:**

> previous titled ‘behind the mask’, originally posted in 2017 but i deleted it and only left it up on wattpad, now that i’m writing again i’m bringing it back here.

They're closed.

Coming to a stop in front of the large iron gates, that's the only thought in her head.  
The gates are closed. 

Her breathing is rough and her chest heaves as she gasps for air. Sweat lowly trickles down her neck, trailing down towards her back but she doesn't notice. The adrenaline is making her head foggy and her heart race and it almost feels like too much as her head spins and she feels sick. Can I climb over? She takes a step forward, almost stumbling, but stops and tilts her head to stare at the top of the spiked gates. No, and she quickly whips around to stare down the long, winding driveway.

But Malcolm slept in his car, it'd still be there!  
She takes a step forward, and stops. Does she really want to go back there? To him? Looking back to the gates, she considered just going for it, just climbing the gates and making a run for it. But there's really too many risks. She's never been past the gates, and the thought of guessing her way to the nearest town in the middle of the night frustrates her enough to let loose a growl. Raising her hands to her face, she leans forward and buries her face in her hands. Tears and dirt mixing and she lets loose a quiet sob. 

"No. Malcom." She can't leave him. Not after everything he's done for her. Not after everything they've been through. She rubs her hands on her cheeks, scrubbing away the tears and the hopelessness she feels inside. She will not leave without him. Without a second thought she races into the darkness, back towards the house.

Back towards him.

 

—

 

Slowly making her way up the steps, she wraps her arms around herself and attempts to steady her breathing. Her heart is pounding and it's all she hears. Where will he be? Waiting for her just inside the door? Behind a wall watching her, like he had for so long? Or worse, will he be back with Malcolm? She clenches her jaw, straightens her back and places her hand on the doorknob. Remember the plan.

The long run had given her time to think. When she ignored the rules he stole her things and locked her in the attic. When she followed them, he returned them and left her be. Even after all the events that had taken place, he pleaded for her to stay and had promised to be a good boy. So did he still want her as his nanny? If so, then he'd listen to her. He had to, everything depended on it.

And with that thought, she opened the door and stepped into the house.

Peering in, she didn't immediately see him, and she held her breath to listen more carefully. Nothing. Closing the door carefully, she stepped inside and immediately went for the small dresser in the hallway. The week before she had seen a long screwdriver in there while she was searching for batteries. Glancing around the dark house, she quickly opened the drawer and rummaged around, shifting and moving things as quickly as she could before he heard her. Finally her hand hit metal and she grasped it tightly, pulling it out and glancing at it for just a second, before shoving the drawer shut. She held it in her left hand, just behind her should he appear before her. A bright light shone from the only open door in the hallway and taking deep breaths she walked as calmly as she could towards it.

Sucking in a big lungful of air, she held her breath as she peered into the door. It was just as she left it.

The doll lay on the floor, its porcelain head shattered into millions of pieces. The mirror had a huge gaping hole, fragments of it scattered across the room. And Cole lay perfectly still on the now deep brownish rug. A piece of porcelain still inside his bleeding neck.  
She released the breath she had been holding shakily and her knees felt weak. Suddenly, she felt a pair of eyes piercing through her and she turned to face the end of the hallway. The light through the doorway filled the dark hall, but it wasn't enough to reach him. Standing under the window, the moon provided just enough light for her to see his tall silhouette, and her breath felt stuck in her throat. Slowly, to not draw is attention, she slid the screwdriver into her back pocket.

"I came back for you, Brahms."  
Her voice was steady and loud, but she felt anything but. And slowly, he started towards her, his heavy breathing seemingly louder through the mask.  
"I told you I wouldn't leave you, and I didn't. Did I?"  
He only stopped once there was not even an inch of space between them, and leaned in closer, smelling her hair.  
Her heart sped up and she started trembling,  
"I told you I wouldn't."  
She didn't expect anything in particular from him, but some space would be nice. His heavy breathing and closeness were making her nervous.  
Clenching her fist she shouted, "BRAHMS!" And he jolted back as if shocked.  
She made eye contact and steeled her voice.  
"It's time for bed now." His eyes never moved from hers and he tilted his head.  
"Brahms. I said it's time for bed, let's go."  
And with that's she turned and walked down the hall, please, please, please listen to me!

Not hearing his footsteps she stopped and turned to watch him, he was still standing where she had left him. His eyes firmly fixed on her. Taking a deep breath she tried again. "You know the rules."  
For a second no one moved, and no one made a sound. Then he slowly started towards her, past her, then up the stairs. He was leading her to his room, no, the dolls room, knowing she would following. 

Reaching the room he stepped in first and she stopped to turn on the light. Glancing to his fist, he tightly held onto the stick used for bringing down the attic stairs and her nervousness grew. Will he willingly put it down? She couldn't force him to if he chose not to, but he was listening to her so far so it was worth a shot. "Put that down now, Brahms,"

Just as he had before, he waited a second then slowly reached down to place it on the chest that rested by the foot of the bed. Thank you. She released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding once his hand left it on the chest. Walking past him to the bed, his eyes never left the weapon as she pulled back the covers. "Ready for bed?" He turned to her, and nodded. He was watching her carefully. He made his way to the bed, taking his time then slowly laid down. He never took his eyes off her while she leaned over him to pull the blankets back up, tucking him in.  
"Be a good boy Brahmsy, go straight to sleep, okay?"  
She was still leaning over him, and his eyes drilled holes into hers, neither one ending their staring contest first. Finally, in that voice he asked, "Kiss?" She breaths carefully and shakes her head.  
"No kiss tonight, Brahms." His head tilts and his eyes dart frantically over her face.  
"It's your punishment, I'm sorry." He's not going to like this, she thought and she smiled at him, trying to soften the blow. He didn't move and didn't blink, till she moved to walk away. Suddenly his hand wrapped around her wrist and jerked her back. 

Turning back to him, he was sitting up and slowly increasing pressure on her wrist. "Kiss."  
He said again, more firmly, in that child-like voice.  
Knowing he wouldn't let her leave, she leaned back over him and he moved with her, settling back in. Once his head hit the pillows his hands slid up her arms to firmly grasp her shoulders to bring her in closer. Just a quick one. This is no different than before. You're not actually kissing him, just the mask. And with that thought she swoops in for a quick peck on the corner of the mouth but in an instant his grip tightens and he moves so her lips connect with the mask's. Trying to move back he follows her and tilts his head like he was trying to deepen the kiss despite the mask. Placing a hand on his chest to push him away his right hand twists itself in her hair and he crushes her too him. 

She struggles more as he tightens her grip, and it feels like he was starting to pull her onto the bed. Panic fills her and she tries screaming but the mask smothers any sound, suddenly she remembered. THE SCREWDRIVER! With the hand not on his chest she reaches behind her to grasp it, and with one motion she drives it towards his stomach. But at the last second his arm releases its grip on her shoulders and grabs her hand with its death grip still on the screwdriver. Just as quickly he tightens his grip in her hair, shoves her head away from him and rips the screwdriver away from her, throwing it to the other side of the room. 

Silence falls over them as she silently cries and grabs the hand still in her hair, as he is now sitting up and staring at her, his other hand laying limp in his lap. He takes a deep breath and moves her head to face him and his eyes are narrowed beneath the mask.  
"Why would you do that, pretty Greta? You tried to hurt me!" His voice breaks and cracks, shifting from child-like to the deep baritones of a man as he talks.  
"I'm s-sorry!" She cries and he just stares. Finally he slowly releases his grip on her hair.  
"It's bedtime Greta."  
She shuffles on her feet and rubs her hands on her jeans. "I know I'm sorry, would you like me to tuck you back in?" He says nothing but stares, and for a second she thinks that's all he's going to do.  
"No." This time it's a deep, growly voice that he uses. And she wants nothing more than to be out of this room. "O-okay." Slowly, she starts backing out of the room and he just sits there, watching her. When she reaches the door she places a hand on the doorknob and tries for a smile, but she's positive it comes out more as a grimace. "Goodnight, Brahms."  
With that she turns off the light and closes the door.  
She takes a moment to catch her breath, and rests her back against the door. The house is quiet except for her ragged breathing, and a small voice calls out.  
"Good night... my Greta."

And she breaks out into loud sobs.


	2. Second

"Goodnight, my Greta."

She slowly shut the door and as soon as he heard the soft 'click' it was immediately followed by a thud and he assumed she was resting her back against the door and crying. 

His jaw clinched, he didn't enjoy hearing her cry, but she was always so emotional, his Greta.

He laid in the too small bed— the dolls bed — just listening to her cry. But he knew that if he didn't move soon she'd go back to him, and he couldn't have that. He'd tried to take her from him, and that simply wouldn't do.

Rising from the bed he pulled the blankets up and took his time putting the bed back in order. He still wasn't sure what to do with the man behind the walls or the one stinking up the room downstairs.

He was still coming to terms with Greta seeing the real him. 

Obviously he was planning on showing himself at some point, but no one had seen the real him in twenty years. At least no one that lived to tell about it.

Moving on from the nearly made bed, he grabbed the attic stick and moved to the hidden door behind one of the panels in the wall. Stepping through he navigated his way to the unconscious man before Greta could. 

He wasn't happy that the two of them had found his room, he'd have a talk with Greta at a later point about snooping through his things. But for now he needed to focus on what to do with the bodies.

Reaching the bottom he continued through the twists and turns till he eventually found him. The man was still unconscious and with a quiet snarl he jerked the man up, and over his shoulder and turned to the small door his Greta previously tried to leave from. While his Greta couldn't open it, a swift kick from him had the door swinging open and he quickly went through it, closing it behind him quietly. 

It wouldn't do to have his Greta hear what he was up to.

He was still for a moment, weighing his options.   
He knew his Greta would be greatly upset with him, should he kill the delivery man. She had grown a bit too fond of him, which is why the man had to go.

Scanning the trees and brush around him an idea formed. There was a hiking trail a good ways from the house, through the woods. He could place him there, eventually some hikers would find him and he'd be out of his hands once in for all. 

Adjusting his grip, he made for the woods.  
Hopefully Greta would behave till he got back. 

He'd hate to have to punish her.

 

—

 

Back at the house, Greta was trapped.

After she had tucked Brahms into bed she had had to take a moment for her brain to catch up on everything that had occurred. And she ended up on the floor outside Brahms' room crying her eyes out. 

She wasn't sure how long she had sat there, but eventually picked herself up and made for the parlor room. She could smell Cole's body but after taking a moment to calm herself, she proceeded through the wall and into the darkness. 

In all honestly she hadn't even been sure if Malcolm was still there, but she prayed he was. Unfortunately, at this rate she'd never know. Somewhere along the way she had taken a wrong turn and as far as she could guess she was maybe somewhere in the basement. 

It was pitch black and she kept one hand on the wall at all times to help ground her as she tried to get out. At this point it wasn't about finding her friend, but escaping the seemingly never ending darkness. The old house creaked and groaned as she crept behind the walls and she couldn't help but let the occasional whimper slip out.

She wasn't even sure how long she'd been down there, wondering helplessly in the dark. But the lateness of the night and the event of the day were starting to catch up to her, and her foot stumbling across an uneven board had her tumbling to the ground. 

She couldn't see anything and she blindly threw hands out to catch herself, but she must've been at the start of a turn in the tunnel because while her hands braced her body from hitting the floor the didn't stop her head from bashing against the new wall ahead of her. 

"Damn!"

Moving to a kneel she gently pressed a hand against her forehead and immediately jerked it away with a low hiss as pain filled her head from the wound. Rubbing her fingers she could feel blood coating them and using her other hand to find the offending wall, she turned and sat against it. 

Bending her legs she she could fold her arms on her knees she took slow breaths and closed her eyes. Tilting her head back, she gently rested the back of her head against the wall. She knew Brahms wouldn't be happy when he can't find her in the morning, but facing the facts, she knew she was stuck. 

She also knew she probably should at least attempt to stay awake with what could be a concussion, but she found she didn't care. And with that final thought she took a deep breath and slowly drifted into unconsciousness.

 

—

 

Walking in through the front door, Brahms pushed it shut with his foot and wiped his hands over his shirt.

Glancing at the clock —it reads 4:27— and he first heads to the kitchen to clean up. After taking care of the grocery man, he had buried the other body. 

He hadn't heard even a peep from his Greta, so he assumed she went to bed. 

Washing his hands in the sink, he turned off the faucet and turned around to lean his back against the sink. Taking a deep breath, he began to think.

He had taken care of the bodies, that was the most important thing. Bringing a hand up to his face, he felt the dirt and blood dried onto his mask and his fingers grazed over his beard. Next thing would be to groom himself for his Greta. He knew she was a bit unsettled by his appearance, but he was understanding and knew she would come to love this him. 

Clearing his throat, he pushed off the sink and made for his parents bathroom. He knew his father had razors he could use, and he wanted to be presentable for his Greta by the time she woke up.

Taking the stairs two at a time he quietly walked through the hallway to the bathroom. 

It wouldn't do to wake his Greta, she really needed her sleep after such an exciting day. He himself was still buzzing with adrenaline.

Reaching his destination, he started rummaging through the drawers to find some scissors and razors. Finally, the middle drawer on the right held the items he was searching for, and he quickly grabbed them and placed them beside the sink. 

Bracing his hands on the counter, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. The only sound in the quiet house was his heavy breathing and he closed his eyes, gathering the courage to remove the mask.

Curling his right hand into a fist, he slammed it against the counter and ripped the porcelain mask from his face. 

He already was starting to feel vulnerable without it, but taking a deep breath, he started on the beard.

Drying his newly cleaned mask he placed it back on his face and wiped the counter off. 

Throwing the cloth he used onto the floor he left the room and made for his room behind the walls. He needed to change his clothes, there was still blood and grime covering him from chasing after Greta and the man.

Exiting the bathroom adjoined to his parents room he moved their dresser and slipped into his shortcut, and pulled the dresser back into place. 

It only took him a few minutes to reach his room, and he immediately went to his small dresser and began pulling out clothes. 

Throwing the ones he had chosen into the bed, he started stripping the dirty ones off his body. After each article of clothing was pulled off his body he casually tossed them behind him, he would move them another time. Right now he could only think about putting on some clean clothes and going to his Greta.

Ones he was completely stripped he began donning the new clothes. 

He had chosen a pair of black slacks, a long sleeved button up, and some suspenders. 

Clipping the dark suspenders into place, he smoothed a hand down his front and with his opposite hand ruffling his hair, he was finally presentable for Greta. 

Leaving his room, he started through the tunnels and made for the secret door to the hallway. While a part of him wanted to use the door in Greta's closet, he knew she liked her space, so he instead would only use that door for emergencies. 

Pushing the door open, he stepped into the dark hallway and gently closed it behind him. His Greta's room was just down the hall and he turned on his heel and made for her door.

Standing in front of the closed door, he took a moment to obsessively straighten his appearance.

Everything had to be perfect for his Greta.

Nodding in satisfaction he raised a hand and turned the knob. To his surprise it opened without hesitation and he was delighted his Greta wouldn't try to lock him out.

She knew better.

With that he opened the door and stopped dead in his tracks. 

Where was his Greta?

Shoving the door open all the way he observed the room fully, the bathroom was dark and the closet door was opened so he knew she wasn't in either room.

With a low growl he stormed out of the room and moved directly to the doll's, perhaps she had gone their to him but when she found him missing she decided to wait for him?

Peeking into the room, the lack of her presence sent a burning anger through him.

Slamming the door shut he raced through the house, using his shortcuts and checking every room. 

His Greta was gone.


	3. Third

~ Previously titled 'Behind the Mask ~

 

She wakes up to a pounding head and a dry mouth. It's bright enough to see the light even from behind her closed eyelids so she wearily opens them in preparation of the assault. Sure enough, after only a second she closes her eyes again and takes a deep shaky breath. Her head is pounding with such a force she finds it hard to think even one coherent thought, but despite that her mind is racing. Flashes of memories appear suddenly and rapidly in her mind as the previous night catches up to her, and suddenly it's as if her body was waiting for her to acknowledge the trauma it's been through as all the sudden her entire body is aching. Just as quickly as her thoughts are racing, her emotions aren't to be left behind as the realization of Cole's death weighs on her and thoughts of Malcolm fill her mind. Oh, Malcolm! The sudden awareness of her missing friend has her opening her eyes once more, the lights be damned. 

She's back in her bedroom, the covers of her bed tucked protectively around her, and in a quick glance she sees her door is open. Brahms must've found me and brought me back, but what about Malcolm?! She knew the man behind the walls held no friendly feelings towards her male friend and worry for his safety while she was unconscious pressures her to yank the covers off her and sit up, wincing and slapping a hand to her mouth to stop the vomit that threatens to arise. No time to be sick, I've got to find Malcolm. Gulping down her nausea she breathes deeply and plants her feet firmly on the ground, her body tense and ready for action; though it only lasts a second before her knees start to crumble and it takes all her strength to get to the toilet in time before all contents of her stomach rush out of her mouth. 

 

—

 

The Heelshire house is quiet until the sounds of her retching echo through it. At the opposite end of the house sitting in a chair by a glowing fireplace, Brahms only faintly hears his Greta's sickness and his brows punch together in a frown. Despite his discontent with Greta's feeling unwell, her actions of running off have consequences, and for now it seems those consequences are brought from her own body so he decides no punishment shall come from his hand. After discovering her disappearance he had immediately taken off into his tunnels, figuring she had run off to find the grocery boy. Silly Greta, she hadn't even been close. Finding her unconscious and slumped over in the darkness with a profusely bleeding head sent whatever anger he had towards her for attempt stabbing out the window as concern for her took over. Gently picking her up and settling her into his arms, he rushed out into the nearest room to bring her to her bedroom, where he could properly asses the damage to her head and stop the bleeding. She'd practically stumbled her way across the entire house, how she'd gotten so far in the darkness he was truly amazed and couldn't help but silently praise her determination, though her reason for it he frowned upon. Rushing up the flight of stairs and down the last hallway to her room, he noticed he had been absentmindedly rubbing her arm with his thumb gently enough to make goosebumps rise on her generally smooth skin. Even in her unconsciousness the two of them were so in tuned with each other, and from the moment she had walked through the front door he had known she was the one. They were connected, and simply meant to be.

Finally coming upon her bedroom door he used his foot to nudge it open the rest of the way and in a few quick strides was placing her on the bed. Even covered in blood and grime she was nothing short of angelic. What hair wasn't mattered to her face with blood was splayed around her like a halo, and his heart fluttered. No time for that now, it's my turn to take care of Greta. Giving her arm one last gentle touch he marched out the hall and to the first floor bathroom, where they kept most of the medical supplies. It was all neatly organized in a box under the sink and he roughly jerked it out from its hiding hole, causing the pill bottles to rattle in protest. Checking only once to be sure it held everything he would need he turned on his heel and proceeded back to the bedroom, where his Greta awaited him.

Wrapping the last bit of bandage around her head, he sighed quietly and blinked hard to chase off the sleepiness starting to overwhelm him. He'd taken his time cleaning her up and patching up her wounds, giving himself time to think. The events of the night could not go ignored. Everything would be different when she awoke, and his thoughts raced as millions of questions shouted at him. Would his Greta really stay as she said she would? Would she still take care of him as she had before? Would he now be expected to live outside his darkness? He was uncomfortable with the thought, but if his Greta would want it, he would do it without a second thought. Not in his room though, never again in there. He refused to return to the doll's room. His parents had left him the house so it would only be fitting he move to the master bedroom, right? And maybe, soon Greta would follow? Tucking her in he took one last moment to caress her cheek then turned and quietly left her room, purposely leaving her door wide open. 

It was settled then, he would take up his rightful place as man of the house with his Greta by his side. While soothing her wounds it became clear to him she was not fully fit to take care of herself, her pleads to him while the dead man was staying here uninvited were clear in showing that. She was a mess right now, his Greta. But he didn't mind, after he had proven his existence to her through the doll she had cared for him with the upmost respect, though the reason be partly because of her thinking he was a ghost, my silly Greta. The point still stood that she was the one who cared for him when no one else would, that was after all why he had killed the others. Awful, every last one of them. Not a single one had taken their job seriously so he had disposed of them quickly, much to his parents chagrin. His parents too, after the incident as a child, tried to pretend he wasn't even alive, so when he received their letter in the mail he had shed no tears for them. They like everyone else abandoned him, his Greta being the only person to ever come back. She wouldn't abandon him either, I won't let her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ones shorter than the first 2 and i'm iffy about the end but it's late (1:17am to be exact and i'm getting up at 5:50am) so i might end up coming back to rewrite this eventually.


End file.
